Page 28 of Winter Magic at Hollybrae Castle

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a Lamborghini instead? At this point, it sounds cheaper,’ Ollie asks, making me cackle when she very seriously tells him not to be so silly because she’s too young to drive.

The entrance hall has become my storage space and as soon as the kids see all my boxes and bags of decorations, their bedrooms are forgotten while they’re in to everything, opening boxes and pulling bags apart with reckless abandon.

‘Can we help with decorating? Why are those garlands so boring? Why is there a loo roll in a Christmas tree stand? Where are all these lights going? A Christmas village! Can I set it out?’ Within moments, Maisie has twisted one of my red ribbon bows for the garlands into her hair, and Rory is wearing a string of acrylic snowflakes like a scarf. Ollie distracts them by asking if anyone wants hot chocolate, which we all do, and only some of us wish it was something much stronger.

The idea of painting terracotta pots for the poinsettias goes down well. Ollie covers the kitchen table with a washable tablecloth and I set out the art and craft supplies I bought in Campbeltown, and Ollie and I sit on one side of the table while Maisie and Rory sit opposite us.

‘You two look like you’re allergic to each other,’ Rory declares. ‘You’re gonna need sooo much help to pull this off!’

Ollie and I glance at each other and he raises one of his dark eyebrows. Until this point, we both thought we were doing all right so far.

‘Have you got your story straight?’ Rory asks, while Maisie sploshes her brush into the paint and starts covering the plant pot, and unintentionally covers her apron, her arms, hands, and hair in pink paint too.

‘What story?’

‘Your lurve story, of course! How did you two meet?’

‘Well, we…’ I look over at Ollie again, feeling thoroughly schooled by a ten-year-old. ‘Have you ever told anyone at work how you met your wife?’

He shakes his head slowly. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Then it needs to be simple. Believable. No film-worthy meet-cute moments of lattes spilled on white shirts or accidentally picking up each other’s luggage at an airport. Could we have been childhood sweethearts?’

‘Auntie Lula, you’re not from here, that would never work.’ Maisie sounds like she wishes she had a blackboard and a stick of chalk so she could draw a diagram for us like a proper teacher.

‘Work backwards.’ Rory taps his brush on the table like we’re not paying attention. ‘How long are you supposed to have known each other?’

‘We’ve been married for five years,’ Ollie says. ‘I’ve never gone into anything beyond that.’

‘And I’m ten, so you must’ve been together for at least ten years, more like thirteen to fifteen because no one has babies within minutes of knowing each other.’

I glance at Ollie and see he’s biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing at Rory’s seriousness.

‘What were you both doing thirteen to fifteen years ago?’

‘I was an accountant for a light fittings firm in Glasgow.’

‘And I was working freelance as a visual merchandiser in Ipswich. Mostly local, but some businesses were further afield and I commuted into bigger cities.’

‘Could the products your firm sold have brought you into contact with the shops she worked in?’

‘I could’ve phoned with a stock enquiry and fallen in love with the voice on the other end of the phone…’

Rory makes vomiting noises to let me know how much he approves of my suggestion. ‘No one falls in love over the phone!’

‘Have you heard him speak? That’s a voice anyone would fall in love with!’

Judging by how much Ollie’s blushing, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.

‘Or you could say you met online,’ Maisie suggests before we have a chance to make any more terrible suggestions. ‘On a sanctuary for stray dogs! Or raising money for injured horses!’

‘Well, we did meet online, technically, so maybe not straying too far from the truth isn’t the worst idea.’ Ollie twirls his brush between his fingers. ‘What do we have in common that could’ve brought us together? We both like castles. Christmas food…’

‘Snuggly hoodies. Books…’

‘How about a book group?’ Ollie suggests. ‘I could’ve asked for a Christmas read recommendation, and then you suggested one, and I read it and messaged you to say I’d enjoyed it, and we got chatting from there…’

‘What book?’ Rory demands. ‘And this is very dodgy territory. Meeting strangers from the internet is a recipe for disaster.’